


my body is your body

by Tinwoman



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BDSM-Elements, Beauregard does a Hit with Keg's full consent, Character Study, F/F, Making some wild assumptions about what goes on in the Iron Shepherds, Oral Sex, Power Exchange, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinwoman/pseuds/Tinwoman
Summary: A few changes, a tweak here or there, and that night could’ve gone in a whole different direction.(Keg beats Vorsa to Beau’s door.)





	my body is your body

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags - this is relatively tame, but it might not be your cup of tea.

It’s late, when Keg finally gets up the courage to knock on Beau’s door. The rest of Beau’s odd little group is tucked in their beds, including the big, pretty one that Keg had checked on right before coming over here. She hadn’t liked the way that proprietor had looked at Nila, and no way in hell is Keg looking to add ‘accidental sex trafficking’ to her long-ass list of sins. But now they’re all asleep, or at least laying still and quiet in bed with the candles snuffed out; safe odds that Beau will be alone, and Keg can get this whole thing over with.

The floorboards creak under her as she shifts her weight, her hand raised in a fist at Beau’s door. Even with her plate armor left behind in a carefully cleaned pile in her room, Keg’s still solid, heavy as the iron ore that her long-abandoned clan is known for, and she can feel the bow and turn of the wood beneath her. Stale air, musty with the smell dried sweat and burned food, itches against her skin like a sunburn. Good atmosphere for throwing yourself at the mercy of near-strangers — at least it’s warm and dry, and weirdly familiar, and Keg realizes with a start that she’s stayed in the exact room Beau’s in right now.

_Huh. Weird._

Apparently the fucking cosmic, gravitational pull of her own shitty mistakes are so strong they’re goddamn inescapable; no matter how fast or far away she runs she always ends up right here. Back in the Run, back on her knees with Lorenzo’s foot on her neck, back with the blood of good people on her hands, back with her face pressed hard into the dirt. _Wherever you go, there you are_ , she thinks, and suddenly she’s so damn tired she feels the ache all the way down to the tips of her fingers and toes.

 _No._ No. _This time it’s different._ This time she’s not here to run a job or waste her gold on women and liquor or do questionable things while chanting ‘just a job, just following orders’ under her breath. This time she’s got a strange, powerful group of people at her side, who miraculously didn’t strike her down once their friend fell. This time she’s here to hunt down the people she once called family, and start the long haul toward repentance.

First thing’s first, though.

There’s a ritual in the Iron Shepherds, for when you’ve wronged someone. An offering, of your body to someone else; willing submission to whatever they ask. Pain, usually, and humiliation. Occasionally mercy. Very, very rarely, pleasure, though Keg’s not fool enough to hope for _that_. Keg’s not exactly sure how normal people go about making reparations, she’s pretty sure offering herself up for an ass-kicking is a good start. In Keg’s experience, a busted lip is better for group morale than a frosty, sharp-edged silence, and hey, Beau seems like she’s in the mood to dish out some pain right about now.

And maybe, deep down, there’s something in her that craves it, too. The ceremony, the formality woven into the violence and embarrassment that spikes in her gut like arousal, and she grits her teeth against the memories even as she’s halfway yearning for it. From Beau, specifically, and the relief that comes after punishment. Keg’s never been good with uncertainty, and right now she feels like she’s balancing on the edge of a knife, tip-toeing through a landscape littered with secret traps. She needs something, needs to _give_ something, and she hopes like hell that Beau will accept it.

A deep, steadying inhale, and Keg raps firmly on the door. The damp wood muffles the sound slightly, but Beau answers almost immediately, the warm candlelight in her room silhouetting her tall form.

“Oh,” Beau says, an expression flickering across her face too fast for Keg to catch. “Keg. Hey.”

“Hi,” Keg blurts out, cringing internally as soon as she opens her mouth. “Listen, I know it’s late, but do you, uh. Do you have a minute?”

Beau’s face is still, her dark eyes shadowed, and Keg is uncomfortably aware of how long it’s been since she’s been alone with anyone like Beau. Beautiful sure, but _good_. Good in a way Keg isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to lay claim to again.

“Sure,” Beau says after a moment, shrugging one shoulder fluidly. She steps aside, arm outstretched in a ‘come in’ gesture that’s about half habit, half mockery.

Keg stands awkwardly in the middle of the room — she doesn’t dare sit on the bed, or even the small chair shoved in the corner — and waits until the door clicks shut behind her before turning around. Beau’s staff is leaning up against the far wall, her pack in a crumpled, thoughtless heap beside it, and for a moment Keg’s seeing double again. Her own supplies stacked neatly by her bed (Lorenzo was always a stickler for organization and efficiency, and he enforced it for his entire crew), Riza teasing her about the courtesan downstairs, laughter from down below.

It hurts. It feels good.

“So what’s up,” Beau says, and Keg blinks hard until she’s back in the present.

Keg clears her throat – _how do normal people do this_ – and shifts her weight back on her heels, bracing herself for whatever comes next.

“I – listen. I wanted to ask – I mean, I wanted to offer, because of Molly — because I —" Keg starts haltingly, and Beau folds her arms over her chest, her gaze sharpening in a way Keg’s only ever seen in battle.

“I really don’t want to hear you apolo—”, Beau starts in a low voice, but Keg keeps talking, desperate to get it out.

“Fuck, I don’t know how to – do you wanna hit me?Or, take it outside, or something? I’ll let you.”

Beau frowns, her brow crinkling, and she’s looking at Keg like this is some kind of trap.

“You want me to…hit you?”

“No – I mean, yeah, but it’s not – it’s like this,” Keg says, and she’s too weak to keep meeting Beau’s eyes, instead gazes up and slightly to the left. “Back when I was with…we had this thing, when you’re sorry. When you’ve fucked up bad. You go to whoever you wronged, and you let them do…you just take it, you know? For free. Whatever they want. You let yourself be a – a sacrifice. A vessel, for the bad shit you did.”

She’s fucking it up, she _knows_ she is, she’s saying it all wrong. Beau makes an odd, strangled noise, uncrossing her arms. Keg finally looks at her, and the disgust on her face makes Keg burn with shame.

“That’s not what we do. That’s…that’s fucked up, Keg.”

“I know. I know! I just…” Keg says, swallowing hard against the drumming tattoo of her heart.

“Seriously, why the hell would you think I’d want to—” Beau starts, shaking her head and trailing off.

There’s a sharp sound below, a door slamming followed by a flirty feminine giggle, but Beau’s watching her like she’s the only thing in the world right now. It’s a little unnerving, to be the sole focus of Beau’s attention, and a traitorous flush of heat washes over Keg’s face.

“Then tell me,” Keg says, fast and higher than normal, her voice thin in the room that suddenly feels much too small. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t want that,” Beau says, and Keg can’t help noticing the flicker in her eyes, the flutter of her right hand, and Keg grits her teeth. She’s almost there, she can fucking _feel_ it — there’s something there, with amends carried out on the body, that Beau must understand. Keg has made this offer before to people, and the ones who say no never look at her the way Beau’s looking at her now.

“Just once. It’ll make you feel better,” Keg says, and she _knows_ , knows in her bones, that it will. Beau’s not like her — Beau’s not a monster, Beau has friends who do some good in the world, Beau is at least somewhat choosy about who she kicks the shit out of — but Beau’s not _not_ like her, either. Power, and violence, and the willing exchange of control; it doesn’t suck.

Silence, tense and strained, and Keg clenches her jaw tight to keep from saying too much, from overplaying her hand, to let Beau come to it herself. Lorenzo taught her that, too — how to use quiet, and stillness, to get what you want.

“One hit?” Beau asks warily, the firelight casting shifting shadows on her arms and shoulders.

“One hit, as hard as you want,” Keg confirms, stomach swirling with a familiar mix of anticipation and dread. “And I’ll take it.”

Beau hesitates, and Keg clenches her hands into tight, painful fists at her side. _Don’t make me beg._

“C’mon,” Keg says, her voice strained. “I want you to.” _I deserve it_ , she thinks, and hears the phantom, distinctive ringing of Iron Shepherd manacles somewhere deep down.

“Okay,” Beau says, after a long, paper-thin moment, and Keg breathes out slow. Nods, straightens up, lets her shoulders hang limp and easy.

Beau steps closer, and Keg sees her glance toward her staff. Wouldn’t have stopped her if she’d reached for it — Keg’s taken harder and not flinched. But no, Beau just stands in a loose battle stance that’s almost beautiful in its elegance, its grace. When Keg fights, it’s all brute strength and instinct, some training to deflect blows, but it never looks _pretty_.

Not like Beau.

“Ready?” Beau asks.

“Do it,” Keg says. _Please. Please, just do it._

And she does; one punch, straight across the face, hard and sweet as a kiss. Keg gasps at the contact, her jaw cracking under skin, and the pain blooms like a flower, vines running down her neck and up around her ringing ear. She turns back after the briefest moment, running her tongue instinctively over her teeth and gums.

Beau stands, hand still raised, and Keg can see the yearning in her eyes, in the set of her mouth. More, Beau wants _more_ , and Keg would submit to anything if it made her heartbeat hurt less in her chest at night. But no, Beau’s eyes flicker to the door, to the friends she has waiting who expect better from her, and lowers her fist.

“Feel better?” Keg asks, smug even through the shooting pain.

“Uhhh. I — huh. So hey, you should sit down, let me clean you up,” Beau says, flexing the fingers in her right hand and turning to the bowl of water set discreetly on a small side table. She pulls a chair out and lifts it one-handed, setting it firmly down in front of Keg.

Keg raises an eyebrow. This isn’t usually how it goes. Not that she’d bet on Beau to go full Iron Shepherds on her, but still. No matter what she promised, no matter what Beau said, she’d been expecting Beau to hit her again. Harder the next time.

“Okay,” Keg says slowly, lowering herself gingerly onto the chair. “You don’t have to —”

“I know I don’t,” Beau says, her back to Keg. The water splashes gently as she dips a dull grey rag in, wringing it a single, firm squeeze. “But I don’t want Nott and Caleb giving me shit about this in the morning."

“Well, I wasn’t exactly gonna advertise this. Not that Caleb or Nott would hit harder than you, but this is a magic-free offer, if you feel me,” Keg says.

Beau turns to her with the rag now damp and folded in her hand, and nudges Keg’s legs apart with her knee before crouching down in a single smooth motion. Balancing on the balls of her feet, still and effortless as if she was the one sitting on the chair, and Keg has an absurd pang of jealousy — no matter how much she stretched, there’s no way she could do what Beau’s doing now without a fuck-ton of sweating and swearing.

“Probably smart,” Beau says, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile, the first once since Keg walked through her door.

“Well, you know,” Keg says, shrugging one shoulder and grinning back at her through the ache in her face. “Broken clock, twice a day, blah blah blah.”

Beau snorts and shakes her head, her mouth still in a half-grin that does something hot and shaky to Keg’s stomach, and presses the rag against Keg’s lips. When she takes it away, it’s smeared red with blood. Beau glances at it, blinking slow like she’s surprised, and places it against Keg again. With more purpose this time, leaning a little closer and pressing a little more firmly against Keg’s split lip.

It’s sweet, really. Sweeter than Keg would’ve given Beau credit for. A moment passes in quiet, calm silence, then another, and as Keg’s watching Beau, still balanced easily between her legs, she starts to notice...something. Little things — Beau’s quick inhale of breath, her pupils dilated even in the dim light, a quick, embarrassed glance at the stripe of skin above the neck of Keg’s shirt — and fuck her but then Keg’s the one sucking in a hard breath as realization hits her like hammer.

_Oh. Oh, fuck._

If she — Keg was seriously not expecting this, she hadn’t come here looking for — but if Beau _wants_ — well, Keg could do that, too, if that’s what Beau wants.

“ — don’t know why you think getting beaten to a pulp proves anything,” Beau says, and Keg yanks herself back to the present, to Beau’s hand tilting her face up, her breath a warm puff of air against Keg’s cheek.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Keg agrees, more to prove she’s listening than anything else. _Am I losing it? Am I just seeing what I want to see?_

“So hey, not that this wasn’t —” Beau starts, wiping at Keg’s lip one last time before pulling away. “I mean, ‘fun’ isn’t the right word, but —”

“I get it,” Keg says with a small smile, noticing again how Beau’s gaze darted down from Keg’s mouth to the swell of her breasts, and another twist of arousal ignites in her stomach.

“Right,” Beau says. “The thing is, I’ve got a — I mean, someone’s coming up here like, now, so I should — I mean, you should —”

She’s staring at Keg again, teeth worrying at her lower lip, and Keg lets her smile curl into a smirk.

“Taking advantage of the local talents?” Keg says, leering up at her, and Beau’s mouth twists into a reluctant grin.

“Something like that,” Beau allows, and Keg chuckles.

 _Now or never._ And the thing is, even if it’s a ‘no’, even if she’s made another monumental error of judgement, it’ll still work out just fine. Either Keg fucks her til she’s boneless, or Beau shoots her down and Keg is left dangling and exposed, embarrassed and rejected; Beau doesn’t have to hit her to make it hurt.

Either way works.

Keg reaches out for her, resting her hand with a light, firm pressure on Beau’s shoulder; Beau’s too alert to flinch but her eyes widen with obvious surprise. Keg doesn’t hesitate, though, just brushes her thumb slow and deliberate over Beau’s warm skin.

“The girls here are good, sure,” Keg says, letting her voice go low and husky. “But so am I.”

Beau lets out a quiet, almost imperceptible sound, her beautiful eyebrows spiking upward, and for a moment Keg nearly laughs at how comically, absurdly shocked she looks. _You’d think the poor girl has never been propositioned before_ , Keg thinks with an amused, inner smile.

“What — wait, you mean — we —” Beau splutters, interrupting herself before she can get a full phrase out, and Keg can see her pulse pounding in her neck.

“I mean,” Keg continues, not letting go of Beau but not moving any closer, either. “I could lay you flat on your pretty little back and fuck you into mattress.”

Beau flushes, her cheeks darkening, and this time the glance at Keg’s chest lingers. Her dark eyes are luminous, pupils blown huge, and her lips are parted.

“Only — I mean, this isn’t more of that —” Beau says, meeting Keg’s eyes. “I just — only if you want—”

“I do want,” Keg says, so fast and overeager that Beau raises a surprised, amused eyebrow, but that’s part of it too, really. To want, to be nakedly _wanting_ without an expectation of that being returned. Beau smirks, arrogant and challenging and so sexy Keg has to bite her lip against the hot, thick twist of arousal in her gut.

“Well...fuck. Okay, then,” Beau says, and before Keg can do anything other than mentally start whooping fucking victorious, Beau leans over and kisses her.

Her mouth is hot and slick, and Keg wraps a hand around Beau’s neck to steady her and kisses back. The angle’s a little awkward — Keg’s half-leaning out of the chair, her back popping slightly in protest, but it’s worth it when Beau makes a throaty growl and braces her palms on Keg’s thighs. Her head spinning slightly, Beau’s tongue in her mouth, and Keg is already half breathless with a raw, aching desire.

 _How to play this_ , Keg thinks distractedly. _How to work her over so good she won’t be able to move after._ But before she can suggest they move to the bed, or at least somewhere where Keg isn’t hunching and Beau isn’t held half off her feet, Beau’s tugging impatiently at her shirt.

“Wanna see you,” Beau murmurs into her mouth. “Wanna...wanna touch you.”

Well fuck, who is Keg to deny a lady’s request? “Yeah,” Keg says with a pleased grin. “Yeah, you too.”

Beau stands (again, that liquid grace, that lithe assurance in her own body’s capabilities, and Keg _burns_ ), picking apart the knot tied at her waist with deft, practiced motions. Keg stumbles to her feet, her clit thumping hard between her legs as Beau peels off her robe and tosses it to the side. Her own clothes are less complicated — tunic, breastband, pants, underwear — and Keg’s naked before Beau has fully removed her undergarments.

“Here,” Keg says, stepping forward and hooking her fingers in the waistband of Beau’s pants. “Let me help.”

Beau laughs, short and loud and gorgeous, and Keg feels another flutter in her chest that she firmly squashes. Get a grip, for gods’ sake. Instead, she tugs down until Beau’s hipbones are under the pads of her thumbs, and she pauses for a moment to press lightly just below. Gasping, Beau juts her hips forward instinctively, and Keg licks her lips.

Once Beau is untangled from her own clothing, is standing gloriously naked in front of Keg, Keg gives her a small, firm push toward the bed. The height difference is easier to work with there, and all of a sudden Keg is desperate to have Beau spread out under her, to have access to every inch of her.

“Flat on your pretty little back, remember?” Keg says, and Beau rolls her eyes luxuriously with a smirk.

“Lotta talk,” Beau says, sitting on the bed. Instead of laying back, though, she pulls Keg closer until Keg is standing in the vee between her legs, a reverse of their earlier position.

Keg kisses her again, and this time the angle is perfect. No discomfort, no pain, just the electric shock of Beau’s mouth on hers, Beau’s hands snaking between them to cup Keg’s full breasts. When Beau tugs lightly on her nipples, Keg moans against her, the sensation sending white-hot pleasure sparking across her skin.

 _Fuck. Fuck._ It’s been a while, longer than Keg would like to admit, and Beau’s hands on her have her panting already. Not to be outdone, though, Keg steps closer and slides her hand over Beau’s well-muscled thigh. _So strong_ , Keg thinks, her heart drumming hard and hot against her ribs, and Beau’s hips give an excited, anticipatory twitch.

Finally, finally, Keg cups the wet heat of Beau’s cunt, the heel of her hand pressing just enough to tease against Beau’s clit.

“Fuck, Keg,” Beau gasps, and Keg thinks the sound of her name on Beau’s lips is the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. “C’mon. C’mon.”

“On your back first, baby,” Keg whispers, and the shiver that runs through Beau at her words make her own cunt pulse, hard and sweet. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Beau doesn’t say anything, just looks at Keg with those dark, beautiful eyes, and rearranges herself on her back. Keg crawls up after her, pushing Beau’s legs apart a little rougher than she meant to. She’s just so hot, she’s everything Keg was picturing when she watched her do those insane morning workouts, and now she’s spread open for whatever Keg will give her.

Slowly, torturously, Keg slides a single finger into her, and Beau whines high in the back of her throat. The feel of her cunt is incredible — gripping her wetly, even just a single finger, soft and silky and practically crying out for more. Keg has to bite back a moan of her own, and instead withdraws just enough to pop her finger in her mouth and enjoy the musky, female taste.

“You like that?” Keg asks, and part of it is dirty talk but part of it wanting, needing, to _know_.

“Fuck, yes,” Beau pants, driving her hips up, her hands twisting in the cheap sheets. “Don’t stop, keep —”

“Shhh, I got you baby,” Keg says, and presses lightly against Beau’s clit with her thumb just as she slides two fingers inside her again. Beau jerks like she introduced a live wire to her body, moaning so loud Keg spares a moment to hope her friends are deep sleepers. Beau’s nipples are hard, tempting points, and Keg gets her knees under her enough to lean up and pinch one, hard enough to make Beau gasp.

Beau’s probably hot enough to come soon, she’s practically fucking herself against Keg’s hand, but Keg’s not in a hurry. Keg’s got all day and all night — slow, light drag of her thumb over Beau’s hot little clit, and Beau’s already squirming and panting, the tremor in her thighs sending a lick of heat through Keg’s lower belly.

In another life, Keg would’ve leaned over and asked if she wanted to be tied down, her fingers wrapped firm around Beau’s wrists. In another life, Beau’s strong, beautiful arms restrained over her head would’ve made it better, hotter, would’ve made it burn brighter for both of them. In another life, Keg would’ve made her beg, would’ve seen how far she could push this powerful, impatient woman until she was so desperate for release she’d do anything and everything for Keg to give it to her.

She still wants to. That’s the worst part, even now — the wanting. Twitch of muscle in her palm as she imagines Beau reduced to helpless desire, her whole body surging toward the faintest touch of Keg’s hands or mouth or tongue. _It’s the slaver in you, girl. It’s only natural_ , a soft voice whispers, unbidden and unwanted, in her head. Keg swallows and bites down hard on her own tongue and promises herself again Lorenzo’s long, painful death. Her own, if it ever comes to that.

Shaking her head, the slight tang of blood filling her mouth, Keg gets back to the infinitely more pleasurable task of circling Beau’s clit more firmly. Not long now — Beau’s breathy, rhythmic cries are increasing in intensity, making Keg uncomfortably aware of her own body demanding satisfaction. But this isn’t about her — it’s about this. It’s about Beau arching her back and moaning Keg’s name and the hot slide of her fingers deeper into Beau’s cunt.

“That’s it,” Keg murmurs, leaning a little over Beau, and the change in angle makes Beau cry out. “Show me, baby. So pretty, show me what you look like when you’re coming on my hand.”

“Fu — that’s — you’re,” Beau babbles, eyes screwed shut, mouth open and panting. “Oh — _oh_ —”

And then Beau’s whole body tenses, her head thrown back exposing the lovely line of her throat, and her voice cracks on a long, slurred moan as she comes. Keg drinks in the sight of her, her skin glowing in the candlelight like some beautiful, polished work of art. She works her through the aftershocks, letting her come down slow and easy, before withdrawing her fingers with a final press.

“Huh. You weren’t kidding, short stack,” Beau says after a moment, cracking an eye open with a blissed-out grin. “C’mere.”

And before Keg can react, to the compliment or the crack about her height, Beau is reaching for her, is pulling her down on top of her in an ungainly tangle of limbs.

“Oof,” Keg grunts, trying to spare Beau the full weight of her frankly incredibly muscled form, but Beau just laughs quietly right next to her ear and rolls her to the side until they’re lying face to face.

This close, she’s even more beautiful than Keg had thought, the slope of her eyebrows and the tilt of her cheekbones making something in Keg’s chest tighten almost painfully. Her hair is still tied up — Keg had wanted to see it unbound, had wanted to see it settle around her face and shoulders, but it didn’t seem…right. Proper. This was sex, and a way more enjoyable way to make up for her crimes than Keg had been expecting, but she’s not going to overstep past what was offered.

Intimacy — that’s something else, for women like them.

“Your turn,” Beau says, and runs a long-fingered hand over Keg’s chest, cupping a breast again. “God, I could die happy buried in your tits.”

Keg laughs, loud and unexpected, and the pleased gleam in Beau’s eyes sends a spike of warmth and lust spiking through her blood.

“Yeah. So, that’s, uh,” Keg starts, fumbling a little again with words now that she’s not in Sexy Mode. “That’s nice and all, but you don’t have to — I mean, I’m not expecting —”

Beau blinks once and narrows her eyes. “Wait, you don’t think I’m gonna leave you all high and…dry, do you?” There’s a grin in her voice, her hand sliding from Keg’s breast around to her back, pulling her closer. Keg swallows hard, desperate arousal pulsing between her legs, pressing up against Beau’s naked form before she can stop herself.

“It’s not…that…” Keg says, cursing her voice for going all weak and fluttery. “This isn’t about…it’s not _for_ me…”

“Fuck that,” Beau says, short and succinct and maybe a tiny bit insulted. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I don’t...” Keg’s fumbling it again — she can show Beau, but every time she tries to explain the meaning slips through her fingers, words clumsy in her mouth.

“Listen,” Beau says, nudging Keg’s legs apart with her own before pressing upward with deliberate pressure, and even the barest hint of friction on her aching cunt makes Keg bite back a moan. “You said I could do anything to you. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“R – Right,” Keg says distantly, most of her willpower focused on not rutting up against Beau’s thigh like a teenager. It just feels so good, Beau’s voice and her hands and her body, and Keg is already dangerously close to the edge of orgasm.

“Well, I want this,” Beau says, grinding her leg up against Keg’s slick pussy, and Keg cries out.

And just as suddenly, Beau pulls away. Keg opens her eyes — when had she closed them? — and Beau’s hands are on her hips, laying Keg flat on the bed before lowering herself til her head is level with Keg’s cunt. Keg shivers with hot, eager anticipation, all protests forgotten, her lust and greed overtaking good sense and decorum and everything else she’d been clinging to.

“You’ll do what I say?” Beau asks, a thread of uncertainty in her voice, and Keg nods frantically, desperately. Beau breathes out slow, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick her bottom lip, and Keg groans at the sight.

“Tell me how badly you want this, then,” Beau says, that same slight wobble in her voice, but Keg doesn’t have time to reassure her that this is okay, that everyone has a slight crisis of self the first time they test out domming, that it doesn’t make her anything as bad as Keg; she’ll just have to show her instead.

“I do, I want it, I want it so bad, I can’t stand it. Please Beau,” Keg whimpers, and this, this is familiar too. The begging. The weird mix of humiliation and arousal, the relief of giving yourself over to someone else. “Please, let me have it.”

“Yeah?” Beau says, and she breathes over Keg’s soaking cunt. Keg twitchs up toward her helplessly, and when Beau lays a firm hand on her hip to keep her still Keg thinks she just might die. Turned all the way on, naked, submitting to a woman who could kill her with her bare hands.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Keg says, her voice cracking. “Beau — gods, just —”

“What’ll you do to get it? To get my mouth on you?” Beau says, and fuck for someone who acted like the mere idea of a little rough play was totally beneath her, Beau’s pretty damn good at this. _Wonder what she’d be like if she had more practice._ Keg shudders.

“Anything,” Keg says, knowing what Beau wants to hear. “Anything, I’d do anything. Just give it to me, touch me, _please_ —”

Finally, finally, Beau grins up her body and slowly parts her with her tongue. Oh god, oh god, oh god. It’s so good, the firm pressure of Beau’s tongue just teasing the edges of her cunt. And when Beau closes her lips over her clit, like an open-mouth kiss against her heated flesh, the pleasure rushes over her like a tidal wave.

"Ah, ah, ah…!"

She can’t speak, her breath stuck in her throat, her whole body reaching for the sensation that’s peaking. With a loud, guttural growl Keg comes, so hard and fast she practically sees stars, the pleasure rushing through her like a tidal wave, and for a moment another face flashes before her eyes. Someone she hasn’t seen in a long, long time.

When she comes back to herself, she glances over to see Beau braced up on one elbow, her other hand still resting on Keg’s hip. The smirk on her face is so cocky and smug it oughta be criminal, Keg thinks with a swift burst of affection, and Keg hauls herself up to a half-sitting position.

“Better than another punch to the face?” Beau says, and Keg rolls her eyes with a small smile.

“If I’d known you’d been this accomodating, I would’ve started with this,” Keg lies, and Beau laughs like she knows exactly how much bullshit Keg is spinning.

They’re quiet for a moment, the candle burning low on the small table, but with none of the tension from earlier. Keg can feel it coming up on her — the end of this respite. The ‘back to reality’ check, the scramble to get dressed and limp back to her room, the cold bed and restless sleep that meant tomorrow...well.

Tomorrow she was going to kill the only people who’d ever loved her. The only people she’d ever loved.

“So hey,” Beau says, and Keg cuts in before she can say it out loud.

“You need me to clear out, yeah,” Keg says, making to sit up and slide to the floor, already eyeing her discarded clothing crumpled in a heap on the floor. “That’s —”

“I mean, you don’t have to go right this second,” Beau says lazily, stretching her arms above her head. “But yeah, if we’re gonna be any good tomorrow —”

“Right, right,” Keg says, and she’s already up, is tugging on her underwear one-handed. “I guess you’ll be getting seconds, huh?” That last with a little eyebrow wiggle — she’s not sure if Beau’s the type of woman who’s up for tumbling two women in a single night, but if so she’s in for a treat.

“Oh fuck,” Beau says, one hand over her eyes and smothered laughter in her voice. “I completely forgot...”

“She’ll let you take a refund, if I’ve worn you out” Keg says, pulling her shirt over her head without bothering with the breastband. “Or, hell, most of the girls here give a killer backrub.”

“Good to know,” Beau says, still unselfconsciously naked, and Keg spares a quick ( _final, last,_ some part of her brain whispers. _You’ll never see her like this again_ ), appreciative look, and nods.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Keg says, and something in Beau’s eyes flickers with understanding. Or, who knows, maybe it’s just the light — a girl can dream. A girl can hope, at least.

“It’ll be a good day,” Beau says, firm and unyielding, and Keg smiles tiredly.

Keg leaves, shutting the door with a gentle click, and when she gets back to her bed she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. Tomorrow she'll be an avatar of death, tomorrow she'll try and carve out the only redemption she knows how, tomorrow she'll be left standing in the ashes of her own life. 

But tonight; tonight was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with Keg, please send help [here](http://tinwoman-heartless.tumblr.com/)


End file.
